Pagan Paparazzi
by LunaEclipse17
Summary: I always thought capturing that timeless moment was the ultimate goal. Until I found the one who I needed to capture for all time. Disclaimer: Stephenie owns Twilight and all that fun jazz.


_I'm your biggest fan__  
__I'll follow you until you love me_

_~Lady Gaga_

_Chapter One – Finding My Muse_

Fuck I was late. Again. Jane was gonna have my nuts. The client said 2 pm sharp. It was now 10 minutes past. I thought this would be a perfect way to use my artistic talent to preserve moments in time, but so far it was pretty much a flush. This was my third job, and if it didn't work out at Frozen in Time, I was going to call this new "career" of mine quits. My job at the studio wasn't working out as well as I had hoped. Jane said I lacked the motivation for it. What the hell did that bitch know? I loved freezing time into a simple snapshot; saving memories for a lifetime. That was why the name of the place struck my attention. I just had to come in and apply to the "Help Wanted" sign, and prayed it was a photographer's position, and not my last job as photo processor. Developing other people's work totally sucked in my opinion; I'd rather watch my own work come to life in the development room. However, with all the digital equipment out nowadays, the days of regular film photography was pretty much a thing of the past. My equipment was entirely digital; all I needed to do to see my prints was load them into my laptop and viola!

She swore I needed more "passion". Yet her idea of passion for my "career" included dressing like a fucking pansy and melting into the "norm". My looks were far from the norm, those cookie cutter wannabes that do their best to meld into the background like non-distinctive specks in a pointillism piece of artwork. But my individuality was an important part of who I was, and each modification on my body told a tale of the person beneath the skin. I was not some romantic gentleman to bring home to meet daddy, for sure. The designed created my personal camouflage from a tainted world, a world where everyone had to be warm and fuzzy to blend into society. My cursed face still drew women like flies to shit though, even though I modified that a bit as well. I wasn't changing for Jane, or any other woman for that matter. I was twisted inside, so I showed that visually on the outside, instead of the pretty boy they would see otherwise.

She held onto her clients like gold; only dishing out the quality jobs to her favorites: Felix and Demetri. Me and James got the short end of the stick, getting crumbs of whatever the other two left behind. Shitty luck, but it was work and without a job, I couldn't afford my expensive habits. And I enjoyed my vices… excessively. Not that taking family photographs of two spoiled Pomeranian was a big job or anything. But I needed the work to occupy my mind and it was an important client.

This client was a friend of Jane's, and she was the boss so this shoot should have been my main priority this morning. But missing the bus hadn't helped; and without my bike I was forced to walk the streets of Port Angeles today. I rushed down the street, pausing for a moment to consider stopping for coffee and a bite to eat. I was already late anyway, what was five more minutes? But Jane would bitch the minute she saw the cup, and I didn't really want to be on her bad side this afternoon. I stood undecided in front of The Coffee Café front window, torn between satisfying my caffeine addiction and pleasing my bitchy boss.

As I stood undecided in front of the window near the studio, I saw them, Vampire's Vixen, lounging in one of the booths in The Coffee Café. Sipping cappuccinos and laughing loudly, so loud that you could almost hear them from the street. The bands singer, Bella, was leaning on the guitar player's shoulder, looking up at him playfully. She tweaked his nose; earning a short but forgiving scowl. Damn she was a lot hotter than she appeared in magazines. I felt drawn to her somehow, was mesmerized by the way she lolled in the chair, completely at ease. It hit me then: you are a photographer jackass, and this is one hell of a picture opportunity. I yanked my camera out of my carrying bag swiftly, sneaking in through the doorway just enough to snap a few close-ups of the band's antics at their table. And a few more of her. Then a couple more… of her… She was mesmerizing!

She lowered her head to rest on her friend's shoulder, her fingers trailing across his collarbone slowly. He raised a single eyebrow at her then shook his head and followed in kind, lowering his cheek to rest on the top of her head. That tender moment was now frozen in time for eternity on my memory card. That shot could make me a few bucks, I was sure of it! I snapped a few more of the interaction between the two, which indicated they were most likely more than just friends. Lucky bastard! I glanced back at her, through the lens where I could see her more clearly. She sighed contentedly and closed her eyes, completely comfortable in her surroundings. I pressed the shutter a few more times, savoring the moment.

It was as if the rest of them were a blur, her face the only thing in focus in my mind. Well except for that fucking guitar player. I couldn't help but see that fucker, as she was draped on him like a scarf. Tall and lean, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, his stance screamed confidence. A cheeky blonde next to Bella babbled to him as he casually smoked his cigarette, looking at her as if he wished she came with a muzzle. I snapped a few shots of his expression; which was pretty classic; as she waved her arms around, chattering as girls do about some shiny object that had caught her eye.

The two to his right ignored the rest, drinking coffee, seemingly uninvolved with the band's conversation. The drummer looked somber and over-serious, dark wavy hair falling to his neck, his green eyes fixed on something intriguing on the ceiling, unless he was rolling his eyes at the blonde. The other one looked like he just jumped off a motorcycle, with black chin length hair, a scar running over his upper-lip and tattoos peeking out from under his T-shirt. I couldn't remember their names, although I knew they were not common like your usual Joseph or Matthew.

Bella raised her hand to grasp the cigarette out of her "friend's" mouth and lifted it to her own for a drag. As she brought it to her lips my attention was locked there, watching her wrap her lips around the cig and take a long, relaxed drag. Snap…Snap…Snap…

I had seen her in a few scattered magazines, always with her band. The shots I had seen in print did her beauty no justice; she was fucking breathtaking in real life. Soft mahogany hair, framing the angelic face and milk-chocolate eyes, flowed in waves down her back, falling to about her waist. Her pale complexion made her seem unearthly and luminescent. I shifted closer, trying to get a few shots from a better angle. My movements unfortunately gained the attention of the guitar player, who lifted his head and glared over from his spot in the booth. He flipped me the bird, which I also perversely took a shot of before rushing out of the café and dashing towards work, recalling again my already waiting client.

My phone vibrated in my pocket as I neared the studio. Jane. Fuck! "Jane, I'm sorry I'm late, I missed my bus this morning and the bike is in the shop. I'll be there in five, I swear it." I was hoping she had gotten laid the night before. That always mellowed her bitchy ass out. Jane Voltaire was your typical feminist, you know the type. She was the "women can do it better than men at everything" type. I half expected her to be a lesbian with the depth of man-hate she carried on her shoulders. Her boyfriend, Alec, was a complete bitch, catering to his girl's every whim like he was her personal slave.

She sighed on the other end of the phone, "It's fine Edward. Your client is running late as well. That is why I called. But please, can you make a conscious effort to put your job first for a change? With Felix on location in California and Demetri on vacation, I really need you to pick up some of their jobs here."

"I will Jane. Don't worry." I neglected to mention the shots of Vampire's Vixen I had just taken, paparazzi style. I would show them to her in the studio; maybe it would perk up her mood a bit. I wanted to review and edit them first; pick the best ones before revealing them to her. Hopefully it would give me an edge; she gave her best jobs to her favorites, after all. So far I was a far cry from a favorite.

But Vampire's Vixen was a new up-and-coming band that was gathering a small but devoted fan base. These pictures could really put my name out there as a professional. I entered the studio, noticing immediately the unusual quietness in the lobby. No clients milled around looking at the numerous portraits illustrating our work; no photo shoots in progress; and no Mrs. VonBusen and her precious pooches. I rushed into my office to work on my new shots before she arrived, hoping Jane would not sniff me out immediately. She did. Damn it!

Her office door, across the lobby from mine opened slowly, her petite frame peeking out from behind. "Mase? Is that you?" she called out, seeing me as soon as the words passed her lips. "Ah, it is you." She strolled across the lobby to stand in the doorway to my office, crossed her arms and proceeded to lean on the frame of my doorway as she continued. "Finally decided to join us, did we? Lovely. I need you to do a shoot at The X Club tonight. I figured you know the place, right? Are you available?" She tapped her foot in annoyance; she obviously didn't want to go there herself.

I was supposed to hang with Alice and Emmett tonight at the club, just chill with my family for a change. So I would be there, but work?

_You're just bitching about needing photography jobs and you're thinking of turning this convenient opportunity down? Jackass!_

"What's the job?" I asked casually. Maybe more info would help me decide if it was worth the time. If it were an article about the club itself, I would have to pass. Every job had to be gauged by its potential to benefit my future as a photographer. And honestly photographing prize show dogs wasn't. But it was still work, and before the other main photographers went on location, I got this and/or nada. I glanced at my watch, wondering when Mrs. Show Dog was actually going to grace us with her and her prize pooch's presence.

"Some small-time band is playing cover music there tonight, and The Washington Sun wants some shots for an article about the show." She replied, disinterested. She stared intently at her fingernails while pursing her lips. "Felix would usually handle this type of thing, but since he is unavailable and you know the place so well…" she paused for a moment, and glared up at me quickly. "If you don't want to, just say so Mase. I personally am not setting one foot in that hole in the wall you socialize in." Bitch! That club was far from a hole in the wall; she was just a fucking snob!

"What's the band's name?" I asked, resigning myself to the job and hoping I could get it done quickly so I could enjoy my night with my siblings.

"Vampire's Vixen." she replied, after looking down to her notes.

_Perfect! _"I'll do it."

The studio was empty when I finally got a chance to review my photos from this morning. I inserted the card and waited anxiously for the images to download onto my laptop. I flipped through them quickly, planning on editing them later at home, but wanting time before this shoot to get an idea which angles were the most flattering for them, etc. I take my work very seriously, after all. The first few shots were not noteworthy, a group of friends having coffee, lounging comfortably in a booth. The next group were close-ups of Bella with the guitar player, first with her hand teasing his collarbone, then with her head on his shoulder, and finally the shots of the two of them, looking quite romantic.

For some reason those shots brought a scowl to my face, and not because of the picture quality. They were sellable, completely golden. But the contented look on both of their faces was somehow painful to look at; I flipped through them quickly to avoid the sensations they brought out in me. The next round of shots were of the guitar player alone, smoking his cigarette and making faces at the keyboard player, the blonde. You couldn't tell that was what he was doing, yet I remembered the pose from when I saw them in the café earlier.

The shots of the drummer and bass player followed, then back to Bella, grasping that cigarette. Next were more of the entire group, including the one with the "bird-flipping". I think that particular one was my personal favorite. It was different, edgy. Plus, it fit this guy's demeanor to a tee. Intermingled in all these shots were close ups of Bella. I decided she looked good from any angle; she made love to the camera, even though she was completely unaware of its presence.

I flipped back through the shots again, stopped at the shot of her taking a drag of the cigarette she confiscated from her "friend's" mouth. My reaction at the photo was the same unreasonable one as earlier; wishing her lips were wrapping around something else, something a bit more personal. Of mine.

_You're a fucking pig Cullen! You don't even know this chick and you're fantasizing about her sucking on your cock! _

I shook off the negative thoughts. Lots of people did that, fantasized about the rich and/or famous; dreamed of them doing all kinds of twisted and dirty things. Or maybe I was the only one who thought of some pretty dirty shit when it came to sex. It was also probably the reason I slept alone most nights. No, that was because I never brought anyone home. And I refused to sleep anywhere but my condo. I liked my relationships simple and easy, meaning there was no real relationship. Some casual sex, a dinner party here and there, a few nights mingling with other photographers, and lots of phone numbers from the various pretty faces I met along the way.

I zoomed in on her face and stared at her a few moments longer before packing up my stuff to head home. I had to be at the club at 8 for the shoot, and wanted to shower and shave before heading over there. First impressions were important right? And since I was actually scheduled to take some shots of the band, I could get a firsthand view of this gorgeous creature in person. Wouldn't do for her to think me a dirty fuck-up, now would it? It didn't occur to me that it shouldn't matter what she thought of me, I was there to do a job, not pick up a girl.

I left the studio around 6 pm, hoping that I wouldn't miss the fucking bus this time. God, I missed my bike! Hopefully she'd be up and running soon, because this bus shit was totally cramping my style. Luck was with me however, and I made it to the stop just as the bus was pulling up. Perfect! I stopped at the front desk in my building before heading upstairs; making sure no packages came for me while I was out. My mom always sent us goodies in the mail, which always contained some of her special recipe Almond Joys. Alice mentioned getting a box yesterday, so I was chomping at the bit to satisfy my sugar craving. The front desk clerk looked up at me startled; then nodded before I even opened my mouth.

"Mrs. Cullen sent over a package today," he drawled in his deep and lazy tone. "Smells delicious too." He added, looking up at me curiously. He wanted my fucking candy, I just knew it. Esme was like Betty Fucking Crocker to these people.

"Thanks Neil, I have been waiting for these." I replied, prying open the box with one hand, revealing the box full of goodness, along with my other "presents" from mom. I grabbed a couple out and handed them to Neil, who practically beamed at me. Fag!

"Thank you, Mr. Cullen. Thank you very much!" he exclaimed, stuffing his face with the chocolates before I could even reach the elevator. I rolled my eyes at him as I headed upstairs, thinking she should box and sell this shit. She would make a butt-load of money! It might piss off the Hershey people though, since she basically made their candy better with her addition of her secret ingredients, and her portion control of coconut versus chocolate. God only knew what she put in these fucking things, but they were as addictive as Heroine. Then again, coconut was my fucking favorite thing in the god-damn world. It smelled like the beach, and tasted like an orgasm in your mouth.

By the time I got out of the shower and put away all my crap, it was already 7:30. I called Alice quickly to see if she would be willing to pick me up on the way. She lived about 10 blocks from me, after all. She was just about to walk out the door, but agreed to stop by for me as long as I brought some of my candy along. Psychic Pixie, how did she know I got my box today? I sullenly agreed, I needed the ride and what was a little candy between siblings anyway? She would reciprocate eventually. Plus Esme would beat the shit out of us if she knew we used her candy as bribes.

I glanced in the mirror before I left, shocked at how different I looked compared to a few years ago. What did Jane call me at work? The gorgeous freak; that was it! Original, right? But my face was too pretty, so pretty that I decided to attempt to rough it up a bit. The lip ring, the eyebrow piercings and the tongue ring did nothing! Even the bridge piercing refused to turn the girls away; I practically had to beat the fuckers off with a stick. I grinned thinking of that one; reminiscing about the couple of times I beat girls with sticks for fun in the bedroom. An interesting adventure, that. They loved it, and I loved the sound of their wounded cries filling my ears and hardening my cock.

Listen, don't hate me, or call me a fucking pervert. They knew what they were getting themselves into. All my "girlfriends" do. I don't attack them with violence; they welcome it as much as I enjoy dishing it out. When the bridge piercing failed to steer girls away, I even got a tribal tattoo on my cheek, but what I asked for and what the silly cunt who did my ink did were two entirely different things. I wanted to be marked, disfigured; to somehow hide the deceivingly innocent face underneath it; make it my mask from the world. Her tat somehow made me look hotter, how was that even fucking possible?! And I couldn't bitch, because it did look fucking good as hell.

I stared in my hallway mirror, at the "gorgeous freak" who glared back with leaf green eyes. "You ready to do this shoot, demon?" I asked my reflection; thankfully not getting any answer from the mirror image. "Alright then, let's go make some fucking money." And hopefully get drunk in the process.


End file.
